


Slytherin Harry and the Secret of Hogwarts

by SoapMaster



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Slytherin Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-19 01:23:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9411227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoapMaster/pseuds/SoapMaster
Summary: The first in the Slytherin Harry series.After Harry's encounter with Draco Malfoy in Diagon Alley goes very different, the two boys strike up a friendship that ends with Harry Potter being sorted into Slytherin. He must make new friends and learn about the wizarding world around him. Harry and his friends go on many of the same adventures as the original series, but with some added twists. In this analogue to the Sorcerer's Stone, Harry must fight against trolls, pureblood prejudice, and a secretive professor who will stop at nothing to revive the greatest dark wizard of all time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: This is the first chapter of the first story in my Slytherin Harry series. This is a monster of a project that started in August 2011. Unlike all the previous Slytherin Harry series I’ve heard of, this one will be ten stories, not seven. And while a lot of the earlier books resemble the canon plot, later in the series (around book 3) things will begin to diverge quite majorly.
> 
> Since starting this series, I have read other Slytherin!Harry series, most notably Dethryl’s “They Shook Hands” series and Lightning on the Wave’s “Sacrifices” arc. There are a few similarities between my series and these series, some of which were inspired by their series, and others that had already been planned before I’d heard of them. But I have not (nor will I) copy anything they do...anything that was inspired by them will have different ramifications on the story, such as the inclusion of an older cousin figure in Draco's life.
> 
> Also, be aware that even though this story is rated for Teens and Up, the series will get darker in later installments.
> 
> The following story begins at Chapter Five of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. I will assume anyone reading this has read at least the first three chapters. For those who have read the story and just want the refresher, Hagrid has just rescued Harry from the Dursleys.
> 
> As a note: unlike in canon, Hagrid takes Harry away for a couple days, not just one. The scene where Harry meets the people in the Leaky Cauldron, including Professor Quirrell, is assumed to have happened the night before this chapter picks up.

Chapter One: First Friends

_To Harry Potter, the world could often be cruel. Now was just a perfect example, as his cousin Dudley and his gang of friends chased Harry down the corridor. The building he was in—at least, he assumed it was a building—was dark, but Harry knew that light wouldn’t help him. Whether he could see or not, he was running through the maze with his pursuers hot on his heels._

_He could feel his right calf burning. It wasn’t that his muscles were sore from the running—his calf was literally dissolving, making his running more of a hobbling. He reached the dead end and fell to the ground, clutching at his leg as the four pre-teens cornered him. Two stood to Dudley’s left, one to his right, all holding water guns_

_“The bloody nut thinks he’s magical,” mocked the voice of Piers Polkiss, Dudley’s partner-in-crime, from Dudley’s right._

_“He must be soft in the head, this one,” taunted Mikey, another one of the gang, from Dudley’s left._

_Next to him, Aaron sneered. “Teach him a lesson, Dud.”_

_“He thinks wizards and witches are real!” Dudley laughed tauntingly at him. “Maybe he’ll melt like the wicked witch.” He raised his water gun, the same one that squirted his calf a few turns back. Harry burned as he was doused in water, and was barely conscious enough to see the looming giant behind them._

_The world faded to black, but he could hear them scream. A sadistic part of Harry enjoyed hearing their unmuted agony. He wanted to see it, but he couldn’t open his eyes. The four screams grew louder, however, with each passing second. As the screams built to a crescendo, the black world went green for an instant, and the universe was silent._

Harry opened his eyes, surprised to see the giant standing over him. Hagrid was looking down at Harry with concern etched in his face, a large hand lightly shaking Harry’s shoulder. The light shone in through the window, and Harry realized it must have been late in the morning.

“Yeh okay, Harry?” Hagrid asked. “Yeh were fidgetin’ and squirmin’.”

“Bad dream,” Harry mumbled sitting up. He tried to remember exactly what the dream was about, but he could only remember the green light. It wasn’t the first time. Countless nights, Harry had awoken from a nightmare in the cupboard under the stairs, only to remember a single flash of green light.

“Hagrid?” Harry asked, looking up at the large man. Hagrid looked over at him waiting for the question he was sure was about to follow. “Do wizards have different dreams than Muggles?”

“Er...not tha’ I know of,” Hagrid said, walking over to the other side of the room. He picked up his umbrella and a small flask. Harry leaned over to the night table and picked up his glasses. “Wha’ was yer dream abou’?”

“I don’t remember,” Harry admitted. “But I remember seeing a flash of green light.”

“Well, I don’ know much abou’ dreams, but I think we should get ready if we’re gonna go to Diagon Alley.”

“What’s Diagon Alley?” Harry asked.

“It’s where yer gonna get yer school supplies. We’ll spend the day shoppin’ and then tomorrow mornin’ we’ll head back to yer aunt’s and uncle’s.”

“I have to go back?” Harry asked, shocked. “I thought you were bringing me to Hogwarts.”

“School don’t start till the first o’ September,” Hagrid said. He noticed Harry’s fallen face. “It’s jus’ another month,” Hagrid told him. “Then yeh won’ have teh see that lot until holidays.”

Harry mumbled as he pulled another shirt over his head. He followed Hagrid out of the room.

Hagrid took him down to the bar part of the Leaky Cauldron and took Harry to the back of the pub. He lifted his umbrella and tapped several of the bricks on the wall in a counter-clockwise motion until the bricks started moving to reveal a path to the Alley.

Diagon Alley was probably the most amazing thing Harry had ever seen. The street wasn’t as large as a Muggle street, but it was wide enough for several people to walk abreast. The Alley was busy with witches and wizards going every which way, shopping for school or work or just for fun.

The first thing that drew Harry’s attention as the bricks made way for the two of them was the immense white marble building that stood halfway down the alley. It was one of the few places with more than two stories, though Harry couldn’t quite make out what it was.

“Yeh got yer shoppin’ list?” Hagrid asked as he stepped through the now open space where wall had been. Harry followed him, and heard the bricks reclaiming their old spots as the wall closed behind them. Harry pulled out his Hogwarts letter from his pocket and read aloud.

_Uniform:_

_Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

_One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_One pair of protective gloves (dragonhide or similar)_

_One winter c oat (black, with silver fastenings)_

_Please note that all pupil’s clothes should carry name tags._

_Course Books:_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginners Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_

_Other Equipment:_

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_1 set glass or crystal phials_

_1 telescope_

_1 set brass scales_

_Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad._

_Parents are reminded that first years are not allowed their own broomstick_

As he read the list, his awe turned to worry. “Hagrid, how will I afford this? The Dursleys didn’t give me any money.”

“You think yer parents would leave yeh nothin’?” Hagrid asked as they passed Eeylops Owl Emporium and Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour.

“My parents left me money?” Harry asked.

“O’ course!” Hagrid rumbled, patting Harry on the back as he stopped and turned to look at the giant marble building Harry had seen. On the front were the words _Gringotts Bank_ in gold. Harry looked at the building in awe before he realized Hagrid had already started walking again. Harry followed him into the bank.

After the first door stood a second set of doorways with a poem engraved on it. Although after reading it, it seemed more a warning than a poem.

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

“Yeh’d be mad to try t’ rob it,” Hagrid explained to Harry. “The goblins ‘ere are very particular with the protections. Some nasty curses, not t’mention dragons an’ skrewts an’ all sorts’a nasty things guardin’ the vaults. Gringotts is probably the safest place in the world, ‘cept fer maybe Hogwarts o’course.”

“Goblins?” Harry asked as Hagrid led them through the set of silver doors. Hagrid didn’t have to answer his question, however, as Harry could easily see what he meant by goblins. He meant...well...goblins.

At least a hundred of them were sitting on stools behind a counter, all doing different things. Some were weighing money, some were writing in ledgers, and some were speaking with witches and wizards. Dozens of doors stood at each side of the large room, with goblins leading different witches and wizards in and out of them. Harry followed Hagrid as he moved to the counter.

“Mornin’,” Hagrid told a goblin. “We’re here to take some money outta Harry Potter’s safe.” The goblin gave Harry a look, but thankfully didn’t comment on who he was.

“Do you have his key, sir?” he asked Hagrid instead.

“I got it ‘ere somewhere,” Hagrid said, feeling around his pockets. He quickly found the key and showed it to the goblin, who gave a small nod.

“Everything seems to be in order. _Griphook_!” he yelled at another goblin. As the goblin, Griphook, moved towards them, Hagrid leaned into the counter and lowered his voice.

“An’ I’ve also got a letter from Professor Dumbledore,” he said, handing the goblin a letter. “It’s about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen.”

“Very well,” the goblin said after reading the letter. He nodded his head towards Griphook, who had joined them. “Griphook will take you to both vaults.”

The ride down into the depths of the Earth was not a fun one for Harry or Hagrid, although Harry quickly forgot about it when he saw the contents of his vault. Hagrid explained the differences and conversions of golden Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze knuts, as Harry marveled at his fortune. Griphook produced a small bag for Harry to put his money into. He grabbed fistfuls of the golden coins and shoved them in there, putting a few sickles and knuts in as an afterthought.

“I don’ know wha’ yeh think yeh’ll buy with so much money,” Hagrid commented, but Harry didn’t put any back. He wasn’t sure if that was an average amount of wealth, but he sure felt rich.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen was different from his vault. For one, it had no keyhole. Instead, Griphook just tapped the door with his fingernail, and the door disappeared.

“If anyone but a Gringotts goblin did that, he’d be sucked in the room,” he told Harry.

“How often do you check for people?” the young wizard asked.

“About once every ten years.”

The vault was large, but it looked at first like nothing was in it. Harry took a closer look and noticed a single, small package no larger than twenty centimeters. Hagrid walked in, grabbed it, and stuffed it in an inside pocket of his large coat.

“I can trust yeh not ter tell anyone at Hogwarts about this,” Hagrid said. “Official Hogwarts business. Dumbledore wouldn’ want word gettin’ around.” Harry had no problems with that, although a part of him was incredibly curious about the package.

Another ride on the cart brought Harry and Hagrid back up to the surface, back to fresh air. The ride hadn’t quite agreed with Hagrid, who had been looking a bit green the entire time they were underground, and looked even greener after a second ride.

“I guess it’s time ter get yer uniform,” he told Harry. They started walking down the street in the same direction they came from. Harry took a few more looks at the other shops and stores in the Alley, impressed by the owl display at Eeylop’s. A group of younger kids ran past him. He craned his head to look at them as they crowded around a display case at Quality Quidditch Supplies.

“Madam Malkin’s,” Hagrid finally said as they stood outside the shop. The sign above read _Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occassions._ “With all tha’ gold yeh don’ have ter shop at the secondhand robes shop.” He lowered his voice. “Listen Harry, those rides at Gringotts don’ really sit well with my stomach. Do yeh mind if I stop by the Leaky Cauldron fer a quick pick-me-up?”

Hagrid still looked a bit green, and they had almost gone all the way back to the Leaky Cauldron anyway to get to Madam Malkin’s. “Sure, I’ll be fine.” A little nervous, he entered Madam Malkin’s alone.

He saw Madam Malkin, a plump old witch, standing over by the counter. She had just closed one drawer only to open another, obviously looking for something. In the back, he saw a blond boy standing on a stool in front of a mirror, being measured by a thin witch with a pointed hat. His back was towards Harry, although the witch was facing him. He cleared his throat and Madam Malkin looked up at him.

“I’m sorry, dear,” Madam Malkin said, shuffling over towards Harry. “Are you here for Hogwarts robes as well?” He looked over at the boy being measured, who was eyeing Harry through the mirror. He nodded and followed Malkin to the back. He climbed up onto a stool next to the other boy as Madam Malkin began to measure him.

“First year?” the boy asked. Harry nodded. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you around. What’s your family name?”

“Potter,” Harry said after a moment, not sure how to respond. What kind of question was that? Did wizards general ask for _last_ names before _first_ names? He yelped as Madam Malkin accidentally stuck him with pin she was using.

“S-Sorry, dearie,” she said, a bit nervous. Harry realized a bit late that it was a reaction to hearing his name.

“Potter,” the other boy repeated, thinking about the name for a moment before realizing. “Harry Potter? Father did say you and I were of an age. My name’s Draco Malfoy.” Draco held his hand out for Harry to shake, despite the protest of the witch measuring him. Harry hesitantly took it, earning a scolding from Madam Malkin.

“You boys will be at Hogwarts soon enough,” she admonished. “You can wait until after I’m measuring you to make friends.” _Friends?_ The word seemed weird to Harry. No one had ever accused him of making a friend.

“Who are you with?” Draco asked him. “You’re certainly not here alone, are you?”

“I’m with Hagrid, the gamekeeper at Hogwarts.”

“I thought the staff only came to Diagon Alley with Mud-ggleborns,” Draco said. He yelped when the witch fastening his robes poked him with a needle, seemingly on purpose. She gave him a disapproving look, and he responded with a glare.

“What are Mudggleborns?” Harry asked.

“Muggleborns,” Draco corrected, ignoring the witch again. He gave Harry an odd look. “Wizards and witches whose parents are Muggles.”

“Oh, that makes sense. I think he brought me here because I live with my relatives. They’re Muggles,” Harry clarified after a moment. Draco recoiled in surprise, and Harry worried for a moment that he’d ruined the opportunity to make a friend. _Don’t ruin this for yourself,_ a voice whispered.

“You live with _Muggles_?” Draco asked, the word sounding poisonous coming from his lips. Harry hesitantly nodded.

“The worst sort of Muggles, they are,” he commented quickly. It was obvious what Draco’s opinion of Muggles was, and Harry didn’t exactly have any contradicting experiences living in the Muggle world for so long. He didn’t have to pretend to be disgusted. “I’d be lucky if I never laid eyes on them again.”

“Too right,” Draco agreed, stepping down from his school now that his fitting was done. The witch had finished measuring him and was now in the back, gathering the correct size robes for him. He stayed near Harry and Madam Malkin while they finished up. “For a moment, I thought you were a Muggle-lover like that oaf Dumbledore.”

Harry nodded, now even more apprehensive. It seemed Draco didn’t like Dumbledore, whereas Hagrid had nothing but great things to say about him.

“I lived in the Muggle world for eleven years, and I’ve never met too many decent ones,” Harry said, hoping to ignore the Dumbledore comment. While not all Muggles were as bad as the Dursleys, none had been as good to him in eleven years as Hagrid had been in a day.

Madam Malkin finished up and helped Harry down. She went to join the other witch in picking out robes while the two boys continued talking.

“I think we’re going to be good friends Harry,” Draco said, a pleased smirk on his face. “Now we just have to make sure you end up in Slytherin.”

“In what?”

“Oh right,” Draco said, shaking his head. “There are four Houses that students are sorted into when they start their first year at Hogwarts—Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has qualities that it looks for in students. Gryffindors are supposed to be brave, although my father says they’re all bloody fools. Whatever you do, don’t go to Gryffindor. Or Hufflepuff, for that matter. They say Hufflepuff is a House for friendship and loyalty and hard work, but it’s really just for the rejects that no other House wants.”

Neither of those sounded all that great to Harry.

“Ravenclaw is the one you want to be in if you can’t get into Slytherin,” Draco continued. “They’re the House of smart students. The only downside to Ravenclaw is that they tend to be bookish. Studying all the time, my cousin tells me.

“Last but not least is Slytherin, the best House of them all. Slytherin takes those with ambition. People who know what they want and go for it. Slytherins are clever, not just intelligent like the Ravenclaws. Blood status is also a factor in Slytherin. Since the Potters are an old pureblood line, you shouldn’t have much of a problem getting into Slytherin. Do you know what House your parents were in?”

Harry shook his head. A part of him was worried with all this talk about separating students. He’d just made a friend; what would happen if they didn’t get sorted into the same Houses? Would Draco still be his friend if he was sorted into Gryffindor or Hufflepuff? The Dursleys turned him into their servant—what if he was put in Hufflepuff because he was a hard worker?

“Don’t worry Harry,” Draco said, obviously sensing Harry’s doubts. “We’ll both be in Slytherin.”

“You’ll be in Hufflepuff if you’re lucky,” came a voice from the doorway. Harry turned around and noticed the pale blond hair, same as Draco’s. The boy who spoke was a teenage, only a few years older than Harry. A woman and a man had entered the shop behind him. All three actually had the same hair color, now that Harry noticed. The boy looked to be a younger version of the man behind him. The man seemed to recognize Harry, if the raised eyebrow was any indication.

“Stop it,” the woman chided the other boy. She looked at Draco. “Who’s your friend, Draco?”

“Mother, this is Harry Potter,” Draco introduced, walking towards his family. “Harry, this is my mother, my father, and my cousin Serpius.” Harry followed Draco and shook hands with his parents.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister Potter,” Mr. Malfoy told him.

“Just Harry is fine, sir,” Harry told him.

Seripus shook his hand as well, preferring to introduce himself again. “Serpius Malfoy, fourth year Slytherin at Hogwarts.”

“Why’d you say Draco would be in Hufflepuff?” Harry asked.

“He was just teasing his cousin, Harry,” Mrs. Malfoy told him. “I don’t think Draco has to worry about being sorted. His father’s whole family has been Slytherin, as has the vast majority of mine.” Harry nodded, again wondering what House his parents belonged to. From the way Mrs. Malfoy said that, it sounded like family was a major part of the sorting.

Before he could voice his questions about the sorting, Madam Malkin appeared from the back of the shop. “Your robes, Mister Malfoy.” Taking note of the Malfoy family, she smiled. “Hello Lucius.”

“Melinda,” Mr. Malfoy acknowledged with a nod of his head. “How’s business?”

“Busy as it always is during the summer,” she said, handing the robes to Draco. “It’s just a galleon and three sickles.” Mr. Malfoy gave her two gold coins, and she returned him his change. She turned to Harry. “What about you, Mister Potter? Are you ready to pay?” Harry pulled out his pouch of coins and gave her two gold Galleons as well.

“Who are you with, may I ask?” Mrs. Malfoy questioned Harry. “Surely you’re not alone.”

“No,” Harry said quickly. “Hagrid’s with me.”

“Rubeus Hagrid?” Mr. Malfoy asked with a sneer. “I wouldn’t trust the man with my house elf, let alone a student.” Harry bristled at the comment.

“Hagrid _saved_ me from the Muggles I was living with,” he said, feeling a need to defend his savior from Draco’s father’s comment.

“Muggles?” the three Malfoys asked, slightly out-of-sync.

“He was raised by Muggles,” Draco told his family, much in the way a Muggle would say someone was raised by wolves. Harry felt a little self-conscious for his upbringing again. He was going to comment when he saw Hagrid outside with a snow white owl in a cage.

When the bell on top of the door dinged, Madam Malking looked up to see Hagrid walking in. “No animals in here, please, sir.”

“Sorry ‘bout tha’,” Hagrid said, taking a few steps back. “How’s about we go an’ get yer wand now Harry?”

“Can we get my wand now?” Draco asked his parents excitedly.

“Books first,” Mrs. Malfoy told him. The Malfoys collectively followed Harry out of the store. Harry held out a hand to tentatively touch the owl.

“I felt bad fer leavin’ yeh alone in the store, so I got her fer yeh,” Hagrid said. “Happy birthday Harry.” A grin threatened to split Harry’s face as he hugged the giant.

“Thanks Hagrid! It’s brilliant!”

“I figure yeh ought to name ‘er,” Hagrid said. Harry couldn’t even think about what to name the owl. What did wizards usually name their owls anyway?

“I didn’t realize it was your birthday,” Mr. Malfoy commented.

“Yesterday was,” Harry told him.

“Happy birthday, then,” Mrs. Malfoy told him. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Harry.” He finally tilted his head up to acknowledge Hagrid with a sneer. “Hagrid.” He turned around and began to walk away with his family following.

“I’ll see you on the train!” Draco called out to him. Draco waved goodbye, and Harry waved back. He was surprised to turn around and see a scowl on Hagrid’s face. Obviously Mr. Malfoy’s opinion of Hagrid wasn’t a one-way thing. He didn’t ask Hagrid about it, though. He walked silently beside him trying to think of a name for his owl.

“Do I have to come up with a name now?” Harry asked Hagrid. “I can’t think of anything.”

“Wait until yeh think o’ the righ’ name,” Hagrid suggested as they came upon their destination: _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C._ The surreal feeling Harry had had for the last twenty four hours was starting to fade as Harry saw the wooden wands on display in the front of a shop. _This is real._

There was a ding as Harry entered the store. The inside was a lot less exciting than the outside. It almost looked to Harry like an antique book shop that hadn’t been cleaned in the last century, except instead of books on the shelf behind the counter, there were boxes with, presumably, wands inside. The only lighting offered in the shop besides the natural light in the window was a single lamp behind the counter. The man standing behind the counter—Ollivander, Harry presumed—looked old and a bit creepy.

“I wondered when you’d be here,” Ollivander said as he eyed Harry. “As I live and breathe, you’re the spitting image of your father when he was your age.”

“Thanks,” Harry mumbled. Hagrid had said the same thing to him yesterday at the Dursleys. It seemed as if a lot of people knew his parents.

“I sold them their wands when they were no older than you,” Ollivander said, closing his eyes. “Your father favored mahogany with a dragon heartstring core, ten and a half inches. Your mother, ever the wiz at Charms, favored a willow wand with a core of unicorn hair, eleven and three quarters inches.” He opened his eyes suddenly. “Let’s get started with you. Which wand’s your wand arm?”

“I’m right handed,” Harry answered after a moment, not sure how to answer the question.

“Ah yes,” Ollivander said, ushering him forward. Harry obliged after looking back at Hagrid for a moment. The gamekeeper urged him forward as well. When Harry stood in front of Ollivander, the old shopkeeper grabbed a measuring tape and measured the length of his arm, as well as the width of his wrist.

“Where should we start?” Ollivander pondered to himself. “Ah, how about this.” He reached out and grabbed a box. “Pine with a manticore hair core, eleven inches.” He opened the box and handed Harry an elaborately carved wand. To a Muggle it would look like a fancy stick, but to Harry it looked like a whole new future.

“I’ll take it,” Harry said, immediately reaching for his coin pouch. “How much?”

“Oh no, Mister Potter,” Ollivander said. “You see, the wizard does not choose the wand, but the wand chooses the wizard. Give it a wave and try it out.” Harry obediently waved the wand and the glass of water on the counter shattered, the water spilling everywhere. “Oh dear, that’s not yours.” He snatched the wand back and turned back to the shelf leaving Harry disappointed.

“Perhaps a wand like your fathers,” Ollivander said, selecting another box. “Mahogany with dragon heartstring, ten and a half inches.” This wand was sleek and black the whole way through. Harry waved it, but nothing happened. As quickly as with the pine wand, Ollivander snatched it away.

“If your father’s won’t suit you, then perhaps your mother’s,” Ollivander said, selecting another box. “Willow, unicorn hair, eleven and a half inches.” This wand was shite and silver, just as elegant as the last. Harry flicked it again, and the lightbulb shattered. Before it was ripped from his hand, Ollivander repaired the light and the glass of water for good measure.

“Cherry wood with dragon heartstring, twelve inches,” Ollivander said, handing Harry a dark brown wand. Harry waved it, but nothing happened once more. “I must admit, you’re a tricky customer, Mister Potter. But have no fear, I am always up for the challenge.”

It seemed to Harry that he was there forever, going through wands. The boxes piled up on the counter in piles of half a dozen. Harry tried all sorts of wands—cedar wood with peacock feather core, birchwood with an eagle feather core, oak with a centaur hair core, juniper wood with acromantula silk core, and dozens more. He had just finished trying a Cyprus wand with a dragon heartstring core when the door dinged to indicate another shopper was present. Harry turned and saw Draco and his mother again.

“Harry! You’re still here?” Draco asked.

“He’s quite the tricky customer,” Ollivander said from behind the counter. “Please give me a moment to finish Harry up, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Take all the time you need,” Mrs. Malfoy told him.

“I wonder,” Ollivander muttered to himself, crossing the shop to a different shelf of wands. “Yes, why not? Might as well give it a try.” He took a box off the shelf and brought it back to the counter. “Try this, Mister Potter,” he said, handing it to Harry without telling him what the properties were.

Harry lifted the wand, but he didn’t even have to wave it to know that it was the right one. It felt nice and supple in his hands, not flexible as several of the other wands had been. When he waved the wand, a small breeze made its way through the shop, and a sudden warmth surrounded him.

For the first time since he’d arrived at Diagon Alley, since he met Hagrid, he’d felt _magical_. It was hard to put the feeling into words. This was all real. _He was a wizard._ Even after the wind died down and the warmth receded from his body, he felt full of magic.

“Eleven inches, holly with a phoenix feather core,” Ollivander said in a low contemplative tone. “Curious...very curious.”

“Excuse me sir,” Harry said, “but why is that curious?”

“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mister Potter,” Ollivander said, looking right into Harry’s eyes. “ _Every_ wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave another feather—just one other. It’s very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when it’s brother...why, it’s brother gave you that scar.”

The room was silent as Harry reached up and touched the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. He didn’t break eye contact.

“I’m sad to say, I did sell him that wand,” Ollivander told Harry. “I told him the truth back then, the same truth I tell you now: that wand is destined for great things. His was too, and he did great things with it. Terrible things, yes,” he assured Harry, “but great as well. I believe we can expect great things from you as well, Harry Potter.”

_Of course people expect great things from you,_ a voice told him. _You’re the Boy-Who-Lived._ He would have to get used to the expectations people would unfairly have for him.

He had the same wand as Voldemort. That thought was also very weird. The same wand that killed his parents, that changed his life, that made him famous.

Harry let that sink in as he handed Ollivander the money for his wand. Hagrid tried to get him to leave, but Harry wanted to stay back a bit while Draco got his wand. Hagrid wasn’t happy about it, but he didn’t object. After a moment, he excused himself to get some ice cream for him and Harry.

 “Mrs. Malfoy, did you know my parents?” Harry asked after a moment. Mrs. Malfoy, who had been watching her son try his next wand, looked a bit taken aback.

“I knew of them, though I didn’t meet them personally,” she told him.

“Do you know what House they were in at Hogwarts?”

“Gryffindor,” Mrs. Malfoy said after a moment. “Your parents were Gryffindor to the core.” Harry’s heart fell.

“So that means I’ll be a Gryffindor?” Harry asked.

“Family is taken into account during the sorting,” Mrs. Malfoy admitted, “although it’s far from the only factor. The traits you have will also be a part of the decision. Take my cousin, for instance. Our family was all Slytherin for generations, yet he was put in Gryffindor. And even though Lucius’ family has been Slytherin for generations, it’s still possible for Draco to be placed in Gryffindor.”

“Perish the thought!” Draco called from where he was trying his third wand.

“This is just great,” Ollivander muttered. “Another tricky customer.” After another three boxes, Draco had found his wand—a white and silver willow wand with a unicorn hair, eleven and a half inches.

“That’s my Mum’s wand!” Harry exclaimed when he realized that he’d tried that wand before. “Draco and his mother looked at him oddly, and he felt himself flush. Ollivander smirked at him knowingly. “Well, it’s not her _exact_ wand, but those were its properties.”

“It must be a sign that you two will be great friends,” Mrs. Malfoy said with a stately smile on her face. “We must get going, Draco. Your father and cousin were expecting us ten minutes ago.”

“Mum, can Harry come over to the Manor for Quidditch tomorrow?” Draco asked her with pleading eyes.

“He’s more than welcome,” she said turning to Harry.

“A bunch of people are going to be there,” Draco told him excitedly. “I can’t wait to introduce you to Pansy and Crabbe and Goyle.”

“I’d love to,” Harry told them, although he didn’t exactly know what Quidditch was. He remembered seeing a shop about it, though, so he could find out later. “How will I get there?”

“Just Floo and say ‘Malfoy Manor’.”

“Floo?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Malfoy said to herself, interrupting her son. “Floo is a method of transport we use to travel long distances quickly. Serpius will be in Quality Quidditch Supplies tomorrow morning with Lucius to buy a new broom. If you’d like to meet them there, I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to bring you to our home.”

“Ok.” He was excited that he’d be able to go to Draco’s house and meet more people.

“See you tomorrow Harry,” Draco said as he followed his mother out of the shop. Hagrid returned just a moment later with two ice cream cones.

“Wha’s got you in such a good mood?” Hagrid asked.

Harry only considered telling Hagrid about the Malfoys for a moment before deciding against it. He knew Hagrid wouldn’t like the idea of spending time with the Malfoys, and the Malfoys probably wouldn’t appreciate Harry bringing Hagrid as a chaperone. It was best for everyone if he just went alone. And if he told Hagrid that, then Hagrid might not let him.

“I just really like vanilla,” Harry said as he licked the ice cream cone.

They walked down the Alley, passing plenty of other witches and wizards. Some parents were shopping for school supplies with their children, while others were just out shopping. They passed Quality Quidditch Supplies, and Harry made sure to take note of it.

From his momentary view, Quidditch seemed to be a sport played on brooms. A group of people were surrounding a display case with a particularly sleek broom, while a moving picture of two teams of six or seven people flying around a field throwing a ball back and forth. He’d ask Hagrid more about it over dinner.

They stopped at one of the less buy shops, with a sign on top which named it _Flourish and Blotts_. It wasn’t very crowded apart from the group of people buying school books, although it seemed like the kind of store that would have any and every book you’d ever need. The inside was significantly larger than the outside. The shelves and countertops were filled with books of all colors, shapes, and sizes.

Harry looked at his book list and headed over to the nonfiction section. He first picked up a copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ before looking for the _Standard Book of Spells: Year 1._ While going through the bookshelves looking for the book, Harry saw a girl about his age with bushy brown hair. She seemed to be looking for a specific title as well.

“Excuse me,” he said, calling her attention. She looked up and smiled at him with slightly large bucked teeth. “Do you know where I could find _Standard Book of Spells: Year 1_?” he asked her.

“It’s not on the shelf,” she told him matter-of-factly. “Is this your first year at Hogwarts too?” Harry nodded. “They put all the Hogwarts books in one place towards the back,” she informed him. “They also have a bundle of books required for each year.”

“Really? That makes things much easier. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, reaching out her hand to be shaken. “My name’s Hermione Granger.”

“Harry Potter,” Harry said, shaking her hand. As his name left his lips, he regretted saying it. It seemed like everyone around here knew more about Harry’s history than he knew himself until recently. When she didn’t recognize the name, he figured she must have grown up with Muggles as well.

Before he could say goodbye, two people—obviously Muggles based on their attire—walked up behind Hermione. They introduced themselves as George and Patricia Granger.

“We were mightily surprised when Professor McGonagall—the Deputy Headmistress—showed up at Hermione’s birthday party to tell us she was a wich,” Mrs. Granger told him.

“A little unnerving at first, but still exciting,” Mr. Granger added. “We always knew she was special.” At that, Hermione started to turn a shade of red.

“What about you?” Mrs. Granger asked him. “Are your parents Maggles as well?”

“Muggles,” Harry and Hermione corrected simultaneously. “And, uh, no. My Mum was a witch and my Dad was a wizard,” he told them. They frowned, confusing Harry for a second before he realized he’d referred to his parents in the past tense. “They passed away when I was a baby.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Mrs. Granger murmured.

Harry awkwardly look down, and finally noticed the book Hermione was holding. _Quidditch Through the Ages_ , the title read, with an illustration of a man flying on a broom.

“You know Quidditch?” Harry asked her.

“From what I’ve researched about the wizarding world, it seems like Quidditch is an intricate part of society. It’s rather popular in Europe and the Americas, so I’ve been reading up on it.”

“Where’d you get that book?” he asked, and she pointed to the section down the aisle. “It has books on all sorts of sports, but I’ve never heard any of them referenced in any other book. Besides, Quidditch is the only sport with teams at Hogwarts.”

“Well, it was nice to meet you all,” he told the Grangers. “I have to get my school books now.”

“I’ll see you on the train,” Hermione told him.

On his way to the Hogwarts section, he passed through the books about sports. The Quidditch section was larger than the non-Quidditch section, further cementing the importance of Quidditch in Harry’s mind. He picked up _Quidditch Through the Ages_ and _1001 Fantastic Quidditch Plays_ before getting his school books.

After he’d paid for the books, he walked outside, where Hagrid was waiting for him, finishing up his ice cream.

“I reckon we’ve got all the necessities,” Hagrid said. “Why don’ we head on back to the Leaky Cauldron?”

“Sure,” Harry agreed excitedly. He’d already met two people who he could call his friends, and he didn’t have to go back to the Dursleys for two more days. He didn’t think the week could get any better.


	2. Quidditch at Malfoy Manor

 

The entire rest of the day was spent reading _Quidditch Through the Ages_. At dinner, Harry told Hagrid what he’d learned and asked for information about how Quidditch worked at Hogwarts.

In Quidditch, there were four types of players: the Keeper, the Seeker, the Beaters, and the Chasers. There were also three types of balls: the Quaffle, the Golden Snitch, and the Bludgers. The Chasers were the ones behind the majority of the action, carrying the Quaffle through the air to the opposing team’s goalpost. There, the other team’s Keeper would try to defend the three hoops. If the Chaser could put the Quaffle through the hoop, their team would receive ten points.

While this went on, the Bludgers were flying through the air. They were heavy balls charmed to fly around the Quidditch pitch at random, potentially knocking players off their brooms. The Beaters on a team, both equipped with bats, would help protect their teammates and redirect the Bludgers towards the opposing team.

The Golden Snitch, a small, winged ball, is released right before the game begins. It flies so fast that it’s hard to see with the naked eye. Like the Bludgers, the Snitch would travel randomly around the pitch. It was the goal of the Seeker to catch it. When the Snitch is caught, the game ends and the team whose Seeker caught the Snitch would receive 150 points.

According to Hagrid, Hogwarts had four Quidditch teams, one for each House. First years weren’t allowed to bring their own broom to Hogwarts and were not allowed to try out for teams. Each team had a captain and was able to practice on a Quidditch pitch. Each team would play the others throughout the school year, and the team with the most overall points at the end of the year would win the Quidditch Cup.

Hagrid went on to talk more about the different Houses. Each House would have its own table in the Great Hall where they ate, and above each table was an hourglass. Students could earn points for their House throughout the year from professors for answering questions correctly in class, or for performing good behavior. Likewise, any bad behavior could be punished by losing points for the House. The points collected in the hourglasses above the tables as grains of sand. At the end of the year, the House with the most points on the House Cup.

The more Harry learned about Hogwarts the more excited he got. But the more he learned about Houses, the more nervous he got. If he wasn’t in the same House as Draco and Hermione, they might not have classes together, and they might not be able to hang out with each other. He desperately hoped he would be sorted into Slytherin.

Harry woke early the next morning, but Hagrid was still awake before him. He’d brought two plates of breakfast up from the Leaky Cauldron and put one on the table next to Harry’s bed.

“I hope yeh like bacon,” Hagrid told him. Harry’s plate was loaded with an assortment of bacon, sausage, eggs, and toast. It was probably the most elaborate breakfast he’d ever had. At the Dursleys, he’d always have to sneak the half-burnt slice of toast or the strip of bacon that was soggy with grease. And that was only if he was lucky.

He didn’t need Hagrid’s invitation to tuck in. His only regret was that they would leave tomorrow morning and Harry would have to go back to the Dursleys until September.

After he had finished eating, Hagrid looked at him expectantly. “Yeh have anythin’ left yeh want t’ do today?” he asked.

“I was hoping I could go to Quality Quidditch Supplies,” Harry told him. “And maybe after that I’ll explore some of the other shops on Diagon Alley.”

“Alrigh’,” Hagrid said, nodding his head. “We’ll spend the mornin’ at Quality Quidditch, we’ll come back for lunch, an’ then we’ll go back an’ explore.”

“I was kind of hoping I could explore a bit on my own,” Harry told him. He felt a little bad for lying about his plans for the day, but he really wanted to go to the Malfoys’. “And besides, you hate Quidditch. You told me that last night.”

“I never said I _hated_ it,” Hagrid objected. “I jus’ don’t love it.”

“Exactly,” Harry said, point proven. “You don’t want to spend all morning at Quality Quidditch Supplies with me. Wouldn’t you much rather stay here or do some shopping of your own?” Hagrid bit his lip, considering what Harry was saying. “And besides, I promise to be back before dinner. If I run into any trouble, I’ll come right back. And I won’t spend too much money.”

“Arigh’,” Hagrid said with a sigh. “But yeh have t’ make me a promise right now Harry. Do not go off the Alley. There are tons o’ backstreets an’ alleyways shootin’ off Diagon Alley, an’ they’re all full o’ people who’d...well, they’re full o’ nasty people. Don’ go off the main Alley,” he repeated.

“I won’t,” Harry promised, containing his excitement.

Diagon Alley was a whole different street in the morning. There were some people out shopping, but it was nowhere as crowded as it had been yesterday morning. Many of the shops weren’t even open yet. There was a small hustle and bustle near Gringotts—the place didn’t seem like it had closed at all overnight. Some other, smaller shops were just opening. He saw Madam Malkin’s was open, but there were no customers yet. Ollivander’s had yet to open, but Eeylops next door was open with a couple of people shopping. Down the Alley, he saw people walking in and out of Magical Menagerie, Flourish and Blotts, and Quality Quidditch Supplies.

He made a beeline towards Quality Quidditch, ignoring many of the other stores. With fewer people in the Alley in general, Harry was receiving fewer stares. Yesterday, it seemed some people could tell who he was just by looking at him, which may have had something to do with his hair leaving his scar visible. He’d never been able to control his hair.

Before entering the shop, he took a good look at the broom that was on display. He remembered a large crowd had gathered to see it yesterday. Brooms had never held any joy for Harry in general—brooms generally meant housework, and he hated housework. But this broom was different. No one would be able to sweep the floor with it. The bristles on the tail were uneven, probably arranged for being aerodynamic instead of being a tool to clean with.

The handle was sleek, polished, and much more visually appealing than any broom handle he’d seen before. On the tip of the handle were the words _Nimbus 2000_ in plated gold. It tied the entire broom together. It hadn’t really looked special at first glance, but now that Harry was giving it a good look, he figured it was probably a luxury broom. The price tag underneath it seemed to agree.

He walked into the store and looked around. The first thing he saw was the broom section. As he walked through the shelves, he looked at the different brands and models. They had Cleansweep models 8, 9, and 10, Comet models, 180, 260, and 290, and Nimbus models 1000, 1001, 1500, and 1700 (which Harry assumed to be the predecessors to the 2000). He also saw brooms that didn’t seem to be part of a series: the Bluebottle, the Shooting Star, the Oakshaft, Moontrimmer, Silver Arrow, Tinderblast, the Swiftstick.

The Comets, Cleansweeps, and Nimbus were the best of these, though. The Cleansweep 10, the Comet 290, and the Nimbus 1700 were all pretty comparable, so Harry figured the 2000 outside was top of the line. Being able to compare it to these other brooms made it seem even nicer. A few of the older models looked like brooms that could also be used to sweep the floor, but as the models got more recent, the designs improved significantly.

Elsewhere on the wall were the different balls—Quaffles and Bludgers and Golden Snitches. There were small hoops that could be elongated depending on the size of the pitch. There were bats for the Beaters and gloves for the Keepers. Next to that was gear for all the different players. There were playbooks with different strategies, and there was memorabilia for some of the top Quidditch teams. Harry saw the Chudley Cannons and the Falmouth Falcons. Next to them were the Holyhead Harpies and the Wimbourne Wasps. Probably the most prominent was Puddlemore United, which had almost as much memorabilia as the other teams combined. In a different section was memorabilia for the national teams—Scotland, Ireland, England, and Wales.

Harry was jolted from his gazing when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He whipped around to see Mr. Malfoy standing next to him, with Serpius behind him looking at the Nimbus 2000.

“Oh, hello Mr. Malfoy,” Harry said when he realized he wasn’t being grabbed by a stranger.

“Hello Harry,” Mr. Malfoy told him. “My wife told me she and Draco invited you to the Manor.” Harry nodded. “As soon as I buy Serpius his broom, we’ll go back. Just don’t get too awestruck.” Harry’s face turned red as he realized how silly he must have looked when he was looking at everything in the store.

He picked up a playbook as Serpius and Mr. Malfoy stood at the counter, talking with the clerk. He didn’t completely understand most of the plays in the book, but he recognized some phrases and terms from _Quidditch Through the Ages_. He put the book back and turned around just in time to see the clerk hand Serpius a wrapped broom. Mr. Malfoy thanked him, and then gave Harry a nod. He followed the Malfoys out of the shop.

“I’ll be back for you in a moment Harry,” Mr. Malfoy told him as he grabbed Serpius’ arm. He turned on his heel and the two of them seemed to disappear. The sudden vanishing took Harry by surprise, and he was momentarily worried before he realized Mr. Malfoy _meant_ to disappear. A couple seconds later, Mr. Malfoy reappeared in front of him without Serpius.

“Was that Floo?” Harry asked him, remembering what Mrs. Malfoy had mentioned yesterday.

“No, Harry,” Mr. Malfoy had answered. “That was Apparition.” He grabbed Harry’s hand. “Hold on tight.” Harry squeezed as he felt a sharp tug. The Apparition happened so fast that Harry didn’t even know what was happening. The next thing he knew, he was standing next to Lucius inside a large room, and he felt a little queasy. “Dobby,” Mr. Malfoy said.

A moment later, a small, grey creature with a long nose and long ears appeared in front of them. “Yes master? How can Dobby serve?” Dobby looked absolutely filthy, wearing rags that seemed to be made out of a pillowcase.

“Get Harry a glass of water,” he told the creature. Dobby disappeared and reappered a moment later with a glass of cold water. Harry took the water and thanked him before he disappeared. “You don’t have to thank them.”

“What are they?” Harry asked Mr. Malfoy.

“Those are House Elves, Harry. Magical creatures bounded to serve a family.”

“Like slaves?” Harry asked, horrified. He knew what it was like to have to serve a family without thanks. “That’s horrible.”

“They need to serve,” Mr. Malfoy told him. He shook his head. “I should explain it better. They _like_ serving. They want to do everything they can to please you. Nothing gives them more pleasure. They consider it a dishonor to be released from service, and most prefer death.”

“Really?” Harry didn’t know if he believed Mr. Malfoy. He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to serve someone else for their own pleasure.

“Really. Now, Draco is upstairs. He’s with a few of his friends, but they’re still waiting for one more to show up. Why don’t go you up and introduce yourself?”

Harry nodded and looked at the stairs. They must have Apparated into an entrance room, because the only thing in the room besides the stairs on either side was the front door. He started walking up the stairs when Mr. Malfoy called up to him and told him it was down the right, the green door.

Harry took a right at the top of the stairs, and was in awe. They called it Malfoy Manor, and the name couldn’t be more appropriate. The hallway wasn’t just a hallway—it was a wing! There were doors on either side, some open but most closed. Portraits and paintings hung on the wall. The paintings were all moving, and its subjects could talk to him. So could the people in the portraits.

“And who’s this one?” one of the portraits, a man with long blond hair much like Mr. Malfoy, said in a snobbish manner as he noticed Harry. “Too many children running around the hallways of the ancestor’s house. If only Father could see this.”

“I can see this, Abraxas!” another portrait further down the hall yelled. “You have to lighten up a bit. So the kid has some friends over. It’s not like Mudbloods are swinging from the chandaliers.”

Every portrait seemed to have something to say, but none were really talking to him. He kept looking at each door he passed, hoping it was green, but it was usually an off-white color. He asked a portrait of an elderly lady with silver hair where Draco’s room was.

“It’s right here Harry!” Draco called from a few feet further down the hallway. He stuck his head out the door, and Harry practically ran towards it. Draco left the green door open for him as he entered, and he marveled at the room.

It was then that he realized how small that cupboard under the stairs really was. While he had grown up in space just large enough to accommodate him before he hit his real growth spurt, Draco’s room was about twice the size of the Dursleys’ master bedroom. A large canopy bed sat in back middle, right behind a massive window that went from one wall to the other, stretching from floor to ceiling. On one corner of the room by the window was a large desk that had all of Draco’s school supplied and a few books that hadn’t been on the book list. On the other side was a door that seemed to lead into a bathroom.

In the corner nearest to the door on the other side of the bathroom were three large couches arranged in a giant L, with the longer side stretching from the door to the corner and the other side stretching from the corner to the closet door. The carpet was a dark green, as opposed to the light green door. It looked so comfortable that Harry wondered if it would be rude to be barefoot.

The room was decorated in different shades of green, silver, black, and white. The walls were white, the bed canopy was silver with green sheets and pillows. The couches were black, matching the dark-grey color of the desk.

Two boys, both with a larger figure than Draco and Harry, were sitting on the couch looking at him. Their faces still had a fair bit of baby fat. Neither was exactly handsome, but they weren’t ugly either. The one closest to the closet on the left was taller than the one on the right. They didn’t seem to be smiling.

“Sit down,” Draco told Harry as he stood looking at the room. Harry sat on the adjacent side of the couch from the other two. “Harry, these are my friends. Crabbe and Goyle. Crabbe, Goyle, this is Harry Potter.”

It was the first time all day that Harry had gotten the looks, and he didn’t really appreciate it. Crabbe and Goyle—Harry briefly noted how weird all the names were in the wizarding world: Hagrid, Dumbledore, Draco, Serpius, Crabbe, Goyle—were obviously not expecting Draco to have Harry Potter at his house. A part of him was upset that Draco had obviously kept his identity a secret to shock the other two, but he didn’t say anything except a greeting.

“You met _Harry Potter_ in Diagon Alley yesterday?” the shorter one—Goyle, Harry thought—asked. Crabbe elbowed him in the side.

“Don’t talk about him like he’s not sitting here,” he said gruffly. He reached over Goyle to extend his hand. “Vincent Crabbe, nice to meet you.” Harry shook his hand, followed by Gregory Goyle’s after he followed suit.

“When are we playing Quidditch?” he asked the collective. “I read about it yesterday after I finished my school shopping and it sounds brilliant.”

“Read about it?” Crabbe asked, sounding confused.

“He grew up with _Muggles_ ,” Draco told them, acting as if it was scandalous. Which, Harry was quickly realizing, was true.

“Muggles?” Goyle asked. “Why?”

Draco opened his mouth to answer before furrowing his brows. Harry never did tell him that he Muggles who raised him were his aunt and uncle. And when he did, the three other wizards gave him confused looks again.

“Potter is one of the pureblood lines,” Draco told Harry. “How could you have Muggle relatives?”

“My aunt is my mother’s sister,” Harry said with a shrug.

“Is she a Squib or a Muggle?” Draco asked. Harry shrugged again, not knowing what a Squib was. Draco shook his head. “Were her parents Muggles or were they a witch and wizard?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said defensively. “The only things my aunt told me about my parents were lies. She said my father was a drunk and got them killed in a car crash. I didn’t even know about magic until the other day. Why does it matter anyway?”

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle all looked at each other before Draco spoke up. “It doesn’t, I guess. Um, we’re waiting for Pansy to get here before playing.”

“Well Pansy’s here,” a girl said from the doorway with her arms crossed. She was taller than any of the boys, even Crabbe. Her face reminded Harry of a pug, but it wasn’t _ugly_ , per se. Her hair was done very nicely, probably by magic, but her outfit wasn’t fancy at all. It was relaxed and casual. She looked over at Harry before turning back to Draco. “Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your friend, Draco?”

“Harry, this is Pansy,” Draco told him. “Pansy, this is Harry Potter.”

“Harry Potter?” she asked Draco. Harry was thankful that she didn’t give him a gobsmacked look like the others. “Like, _the_ Harry Potter?” She looked at Harry. “I thought you’d be taller.” Harry bristled and she rolled her eyes. “No offense,” she added.

“Be nice,” Draco warned her. “You brought your broom?” he asked. She nodded.

“It’s downstairs by the fire place,” she told him. “Is it just the five of us?”

Draco shook his head. “Marcus, Terence, and Adrian are here, and Lucian is coming later.”

“We’re playing against half of the Slytherin Quidditch team?” Goyle asked, obviously freaking out a bit. “We have no chance.”

“Five is more than half, dummy,” Crabbe told him.

“We’ll show them what we got,” Draco said proudly. “Maybe they’ll put one of us on the team.”

“You know first years aren’t allowed to try out for Quidditch,” Pansy told him.

“Exceptions can be made,” Draco said defensively.

“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” she told him. She looked at Harry. “So, you grew up with Muggles, huh?” she asked. Harry wondered how long she had been standing at the door before announcing her presence. “Do you have a broom?”

Harry panicked. He had just been at Quality Quidditch Supplies, and he still had a pouch full of galleons. He should have bought a broom! “I-I didn’t know I needed one,” he said. The Hogwarts letter explicitly said that first years were not allowed their own brooms, and he’d have nowhere to keep it while he was at school, but obviously he’d need a broom if he was to play Quidditch with them.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Serpius will let you use his old Cleansweep 8,” Draco told him. “Let’s go downstairs.”

Harry followed Draco and Pansy, who were leading the way, standing with Crabbe and Goyle. The two weren’t very talkative. Pansy, on the other hand, made up for both of their quietness in stride. She was telling Draco all about her mother, who wouldn’t teach Pansy a charm to put on makeup.

As they walked through the hallway, Harry looked at the paintings in the hallway. Some were of landscapes, some were of characters who all had things to say. The portraits of Malfoy ancestors would occasionally talk to the group, but since Pansy was already deep in discussion about the pros and cons of using an Undetectable Extension Charm to turn her trunk into a walk-in closet, they didn’t disturb them too much.

They descended the stairs into the entrance hallway that Harry and Mr. Malfoy had Apparated into, and then walked through it into the dining room. Mrs. Malfoy was sitting in the sitting room with Seripus and a group of other older boys when they entered.

“Hello, Mrs. Malfoy,” Harry said when he entered.

“Ah, Harry,” she said, standing up. “How are you this morning?”

“I feel great,” Harry said. _Certainly better than I did after Apparating._

“We’re ready to play,” Draco told Serpius.

“You have five people,” said one of the boys. He looked older than the others, with an ugly, pushed-in face. He had a smattering of acne all over his face, which confused Harry. Wouldn’t he be able to use magic to get rid of it? He looked scary, but didn’t sound it.

“You scared, Marcus?” Draco challenged. Marcus stood up quickly.

“You’re on.”

Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle went to a small room on the side to get their brooms. They were followed by Marcus and the two other boys who had been in the room.

“Draco, do you mind if I sit this one out?” Harry asked. Draco gave him a confused look.

“Five minutes ago you were wondering when we would play,” he said. “Now you don’t want to?”

“I do,” Harry assured him. “I just think I should watch at least one game before I play.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Draco turned to Serpius. “Harry doesn’t have a broom. Do you mind if he uses your old Cleansweep?”

“It’s out in the Quidditch shed,” Serpius answered. “He can use it, but he has to double up with someone else to get out there.”

“Can I go with you?” Harry asked quickly. “I want to ride on the Nimbus 2000.”

Serpius grinned. “My friends would flip out if you were the first person besides me to ride the 2000.” He paused for a moment in consideration. “Sounds like fun.” The sitting room opened to the back yard. After everyone had gotten their brooms—including Draco, who had a house elf named Binky bring his own Comet 290—Seripus and Harry walked out.

The Malfoy’s back yard wasn’t exactly a yard. After descending the stairs to the ground, Harry could barely see anything except open space past the large pool. It was a grassy field all the way down. Malfoy Manor sat on the side of a hill, with the back being all uphill.

Seripus straddled his broom, leaving Harry room behind him to get on. “Watch the tail, Harry. And hold on tight.” Marcus and the other two older boys were already in the air, with Pansy, Draco, and Crabbe behind them. Harry stepped over the tail so that he was straddling the broom as well and wrapped his arms around Serpius’ middle.

They were the last ones in the air, Goyle having kicked off seconds before Serpius. As the broom lifted up, Harry felt magical, flying in the air on a broom. The fresh air slapped against his face as they flew. The broom picked up speed quite quickly, and soon Harry had to shield his face with Seripus’ body from the wind. He squinted around them as the trees zipped by, and they had soon caught up to and passed everyone else one-by-one.

When they passed Draco, he had an incredibly jealous expression on his face. Seripus’ friends were all smiling and grinning wildly as they saw Serpius’ broom speed by. They were probably happy that they had such a great broom on their team for Quidditch at Hogwarts.

Harry didn’t know how fast they were going, but they soon reached the top of the hill, and Harry peaked out to see the world from the top.

They were high up; that was the first thing Harry noticed. He could see for miles and miles away. Around halfway down the hill, hoops poked out of the grass. Three of them stood at each side of the pitch. A building the size of Number Four Privet Drive was nearby, still in the Malfoy’s property. From this height, he was able to see a few other mansions that were nearby, all of them tiny compared to Malfoy Manor.

At the apex of the hill, Serpius slowed to a stop to allow Harry to see the view. Harry looked behind him to see the others catching up.

“Hold on tight,” Seripus told him, pointing the broom downwards. Harry barely had time to think before the broom took off at top speed.

Serpius lowered them down so that they were flying barely above the grass. As they got closer, he started whooping. Harry buried his head into the back of Serpius’ robes. The fresh air was making him dizzy. As if he was trying to make Harry dizzier, Seripus pulled the tip of the handle up, and they lifted up.

“Hold your legs tight,” Serpius yelled back to him. Harry complied, pressing his legs so tight to the broom that he was sure it would leave marks. Serpius brought the broom back so that they were flying upside down back towards the Manor. He continued the arc, bringing them in a complete loop until they were flying forward towards the pitch right-side-up again.

Harry didn’t even realize he was yelling and whooping along with Serpius, who starting to bring them up again. Instead of turning back for a loop, he just kept climbing. Finally, they stopped high in the air, directly above the Quidditch pitch.

“You ready?” Serpius asked. Harry looked back to the top of the hill where the others were coming. Harry nodded into Serpius’ back and the older boy pointed the handle straight down. As they sped towards the ground, Harry was sure he was gripping Seripus too tightly. He didn’t mind leaving a bruise or two, though, because the other option was to fall completely off. He screamed until his throat hurt, and watched with an eye peaked open as the ground rushed up to meet them. At what seemed to be the last minute, Serpius pulled the broom back up so they were zooming parallel to the ground.

The jerk caused Harry’s glasses to fall off as they circled around the whole pitch, waiting for the others to arrive. Harry panicked as the glasses hit the ground, though he couldn’t really complain about the rest of the ride. Finally, when everyone else showed up, Serpius flew towards them and stopped playing around and doing tricks.

“That was brilliant!” Marcus said in awe.

“Amazing,” one of the others agreed.

“How did you like your first broom ride Harry?” Serpius asked quietly. Harry grinned at him, but when Serpius looked back at him, he noticed his glasses for the first time. “Damn, I’m sorry.” They descended to the ground, where Serpius pulled out his wand. “ _Accio_ glasses,” he said. Harry looked in the general direction of where his glasses fell, and noticed them in two pieces flying through the air towards them.

When they landed in Serpius’ hand, he noticed that they were broken at the bridge. The piece of scotch tape that had held it together since he first broke it in the first grade had fallen off.

“Fuck,” Serpius muttered. He pointed his wand at the pieces again. “ _Occulus reparo_.” When he handed the glasses back to Harry, they were better than they’d been since he got them. All the small scratches that had obscured the lenses were gone, the bridge was good as new, and the dirt and grime had cleaned away. The world seemed to be clearer than ever before when Harry put them on again.

With another wave of his wand, Serpius made a broom fly out of the house on the hill—which Draco had called the Quidditch shed earlier—and towards the pitch. “My old Cleansweep,” he told Harry, handing it to him.

Because they were playing with four to a team instead of seven, the groups had decided to play with just Keepers and Chasers see who had the most points when Lucian—another friend of Seripus’—showed up.

The other two people on Serpius’ team were named Adrian and Terence, Harry learned. Adrian was the tallest of everyone, though his face made him look the youngest of the four older boys. His skin was tanned, compared to the pale complexion that Seripus and Terence had. Terence was a bit stockier than the other three, though he wasn’t fat like Crabbe and Goyle. He had a patch goatee that looked a bit humorous. Still, he looked a sight better than Marcus.

Adrian and Marcus were both in Serpius’ year at Hogwarts—in September they would all be fourth years. Terence was the oldest of them, going into his final year at Hogwarts. Despite being the oldest, Terence was not going to be the team captain this year, Marcus would.

Harry straddled the Cleansweep and slowly kicked off the ground. He floated further and further up. He wasn’t even paying close attention to the game at first. He was trying to teach himself how to control the broom. The broom would go in the direction of the handle, he learned. But it responded to thought as well. That was how the broom could stop—if he willed it enough.

“Having fun there?” Draco called from the hoops he was guarding. Crabbe and Goyle were bringing the Quaffle down the pitch to the hoops Adrian was guarding.

“Flying’s amazing!” Harry called back. He felt like he could stay in the air forever. He looked back towards the game, where Marcus intercepted a pass from Crabbe to Pansy and began to fly back down to Draco. Draco got into position to block it, but he couldn’t stop it.

The game continued, with the older boys dominating the game. When the score reached 280-20, Pansy demanded Draco let her be Keeper. When the scored reached 610-20, Draco demanded they switch back. By the time Lucian arrived, the score was 980-20.

“You couldn’t have waited until we made it an even thousand?” Marcus complained.

Lucian was very plain looking, with hair as black as Harry’s. He was younger than the rest of the older boys. Harry would even think he was closer to his age than to Serpius’.

Now that Lucian had arrived, Harry joined the game. Draco offered to be Seeker, let Goyle take over as Keeper, and let Harry play Chaser with Pansy and Crabbe.

That game was even worse. Harry couldn’t make a single goal, and he was only able to complete two passes the whole time. Goyle wasn’t a rubbish Keeper at all, and he managed to make a couple of good saves, but they were completely on the defense.

The only hope of the game was for Draco to catch the Snitch before Seripus, who was playing Seeker. Apparently Serpius was on the Slytherin Quidditch team, but he played Chaser. At least he was out of his element while looking for the Snitch.

For them to have any hope, Goyle had to keep their score below 150, or not even the Golden Snitch could save them. When they finally passed 150, Harry knew they needed to improve offense.

“Draco! Switch!” Draco didn’t object to Chasing. He was definitely better than Harry at it. Harry zoomed around the pitch looking for any sign of the small gold ball. Harry didn’t imagine Seeking to be so hard when he was reading _Quidditch Through the Ages_.

Finally, he caught sight of the Snitch, floating near where Lucian and Terence were going back and forth with the Quaffle. Draco had managed to score another goal, so the score was momentarily 160-10. It could be Harry’s last chance to catch the Snitch so his team didn’t lose.

He sped towards the Snitch, which seemed to sense him coming. The Snitch zipped down and then back and around again, making Harry fly around in circles to chase it. He was getting dizzy, and Serpius seemed to realize Harry was chasing the Snitch.

Serpius, on his Nimbus 2000, couldn’t possibly lose if it came down to a race for the Snitch. So Harry pulled a maneuver he’d only read about and lowered his broom handle towards the ground. He flew straight down and Serpius followed suit. He went from following Harry to flying beside Harry to pushing ahead of Harry. By the time he realized Harry hadn’t actually been following the Snitch, it was too late. He had pulled up and Serpius was too late to avoid crashing into the ground.

Harry pulled away and looked towards where the Snitch had last been. He was able to quickly find it again and zoom towards it. He was flying all across the pitch in all sorts of lines and curves, flying in a random path as he followed the Snitch. He soon saw Serpius was catching up to him again, and panicked. He wouldn’t be able to pull that move again. He had to catch the Snitch. His broom had to go faster.

_Faster_ , he thought, hoping it would respond to his thoughts. He reached out towards the Snitch, just missing it. He needed to catch up a little more. Serpius was almost on top of him now. He inched forward. Both his hand and Serpius’ were close enough to catch it. Harry slammed into Seripus’ side, giving him the split-second advantage.

The split-second was all he needed to wrap his fingers around the Snitch and yell in joy. The final score was 180-170, and the older boys had won.

Not that you could tell by looking at them. It was Harry’s team that was whooping excitedly and cheering for Harry as they all came back down to the ground and converged in the center of the pitch.

“That was amazing!” Pansy screeched.

“Where did you learn to fly like that?” Draco asked.

“Where did you learn to _Wronskei Feint_ like that?” Serpius asked as he walked to the group. Terence, Marcus, Adrian, and Miles had joined as well. “Bloody hell, Harry. My shoulder hurts.”

“Sorry,” Harry said. Serpius had been so nice to him today that he felt bad doing that to him.

“Don’t be sorry! That was amazing!” Draco yelled.

“He’s better than Charles was,” Terence told Marcus, who was frowning.

“It’s a shame that first years can’t play, Potter,” Marcus told him. “Our Seeker graduated last year and we need a new one. You’ll have to try out next year. I won’t take no for an answer.”

Harry was showered with compliments for the rest of the day. Even the older boys were impressed by him. When they were back at the Manor, Marcus gave Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy a play-by-play of the match, going heavy into detail about Harry’s prowess as a Seeker.

“Perhaps if you get sorted into Slytherin, I’ll send Professor Snape an owl,” Mr. Malfoy said. “He can give you special permission to try out for the team.”

Harry felt his stomach grumble. “No wonder you’re hungry,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “You boys were out all day. It’s almost time for dinner, and you all skipped lunch.”

Harry hadn’t realized how long they had been out. He had promised Hagrid he’d be back at the Leaky Cauldron for dinner. He stood up quickly. “I have to go,” he said, panicked.

“What’s wrong?” Draco asked.

“I promised Hagrid I’d be back at the Leaky Cauldron by dinner. He doesn’t even know I’m here,” he admitted.

“He doesn’t know where you are?” Mr. Malfoy asked. “I’ll have to talk to Dumbledore about this.”

“No!” Harry said quickly. Everyone looked at him with varying expressions of surprise. “I lied to Hagrid. I said I’d be spending the day at Quality Quidditch Supplies and shopping. I didn’t think he’d let me come if he told me.”

“Why wouldn’t he let you come?” Draco asked.

“He didn’t seem to like your father much,” Harry admitted. “And I know you don’t like him much either,” he said to Mr. Malfoy.

“Well, if he has to go, then he has to go,” Mrs. Malfoy said, standing up. “It was a pleasure having you, Harry. Don’t be a stranger.”

“I’ll see you on the train,” Draco told him.

Mr. Malfoy showed him into the room where the others had left their brooms after arriving. The room was small and bare but for a small fireplace. Mr. Malfoy showed him how to Floo. He’d have to throw the green powder on the mantle into the fire and then speak the place he wanted to go. Luckily, the Leaky Cauldron was a part of the Floo network.

Flooing was even more nauseating than Apparating, Harry learned, and he was coated in a layer of soot when he arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. He stepped out of the fireplace, but no one paid him any mind. He thought a child walking out of a fireplace would be a little more attention-grabbing.

“Harry!” Tom the bartender called from the bar. “Hagrid, he’s here.”

Hagrid, who had been sitting at the bar with a mug of beer had a look of palpable relief. He stood up from his chair and lumbered over to Harry.

“Where ‘ave yeh been?” Hagrid asked him, hugging him tightly. “I had no idear where yeh were. I though’ yeh got lost on one o’ them side alleys like I told yeh not to. Where were you?”

“I-I ran into Mr. Malfoy and Draco at Quality Quidditch Supplies,” Harry told Hagrid. He wouldn’t be able to deny leaving the Alley if Hagrid actually had been looking for him, so it was best to say a lie flavored in truth. “They invited me to Malfoy Manor to play some Quidditch. Hagrid, I flew on a Nimbus 2000 and I pulled a Wronskei Feint against Draco’s cousin!”

“I told yeh to stay on the Alley,” Hagrid said angrily.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, not sorry at all. He looked down at his feet. “I just wanted to play some Quidditch. Are you mad? Are you gonna send me back to the Dursleys now?”

Hagrid went still. He didn’t even speak for a while. “O’ course I’m not sending yeh back. At least not till tomorrow anyway. I’m not tha’ mad, I was jus’ worried outta my mind. Did yeh eat?”

Harry shook his head, grateful that he was done having to lie. He and Hagrid sat down to another large meal as Harry went into detail about the game. Hagrid made a face every time Harry mentioned a Malfoy.

“And then, Mr. Malfoy said if I got into Slytherin, he’d tell Professor Snape to let me try out,” Harry finished. “Who _is_ Professor Snape, anyway? People kept talking about him.”

“Professor Snape is the ‘ead of Slytherin House,” Hagrid said gruffly. “Yeh don’ want t’ be sorted there. Yer parents were both Gryffindors—good ‘uns too. Yeh’ll be a Gryffindor like them an’ yeh’ll make ‘em proud.”

“I don’t want to be in Gryffindor,” Harry objected. “All my friends are going into Slytherin and I want to be with them.”

Hagrid didn’t argue with him, but Harry could tell he wasn’t happy with that declaration. They didn’t speak much for the rest of the night. When Harry went to bed, he couldn’t sleep. He was worried about not being sorted into Slytherin with all his friends. And he was nervous about going back to the Dursleys.


	3. Life on Privet Drive

 

“ _Lumos._ ”

The tip of Harry’s wand glowed a bit brighter in the dark of night than it had before. “ _Nox_.” And just like that, it went out.

“ _Lumos._ _Nox._ ” It wasn’t much, but it was still magic. He cast _Lumos_ one last time and pointed the wand tip at his book, reading more about the introduction to spells. The book, _Standard Book of Spells, Year One_ , had a lengthy introduction about the different types of magic. There were different branches and focuses, and even different types of spells: charms, curses, jinxes, hexes, and the list went on.

Harry had been reading his school books nearly non-stop since he’d returned to Number Four Privet Drive nearly two weeks ago. There was so much to learn—so much that the Dursleys had kept from him. There was Potions and Herbology and Transfiguration, all of which sounded amazing.

The Dursleys had refused to allow Harry access to any of his things until the first, when they would be loaded in the car and dropped off at King’s Cross Station with him, ready to board the Hogwarts Express. Harry eventually persuaded them to allow him his things, telling them that he’d already learned how to conjure up another pig tail.

Now they barely spoke to him, which wasn’t really a problem for Harry. Dudley was downright afraid of him. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were too, but they tried not to show it. They didn’t make Harry cook and clean for them...at least not as often as they had before. He was responsible for his own things, and had chores to do, but he was no longer their house elf.

They told him under no circumstances was he to take his “school stuff” out of his bedroom, and especially no flying on the broom. Harry could understand that, but it didn’t stop him from carrying his wand in his right sock, tucked into his pants. When it got too hot for long pants, he kept it in his waistband.

Their other condition was that he couldn’t let his owl fly. They didn’t want any odd looks from the neighbors. Harry kept his owl—Hedwig, he’d decided to name her—in his room as well. Uncle Vernon wanted him to keep her locked up, but Harry allowed her full use of the bedroom while he was there.

The neighbors still gave them odd looks on account of Draco’s owl coming and going. Uncle Vernon nearly had an aneurism the first time Mrs. Figg asked about the eagle owl. That earned Harry a hard smack on the face. From then on, Harry told Draco they could only owl each other at night.

Hedwig was never sent to Malfoy Manor—Harry didn’t want to risk making the Dursleys even angrier—but it didn’t stop him from sending messages with Dragon. The first time Draco’s owl arrived, Harry had read Draco’s letter, given the owl some crackers, and sent it off with his response. Since then, Dragon had been a regular visitor to Number Four Privet Drive.

He would tell Draco some more about what he was learning, and he would ask some questions about Hogwarts and the wizarding world. What Draco didn’t know, he asked his family, and what they didn’t know, he’d make up. He told Harry that he could use as much magic as he wanted for the rest of the holidays—Hogwarts didn’t inform first years of the prohibition on magic outside of school until after the first year was over.

Harry was delighted. He was free to practice his spells—although he only got the hang of _Lumos_ and _Nox_ so far—and threaten the Dursleys with magic if they were too abusive. He wasn’t sure how he’d handle them next summer after he couldn’t use magic over the summer, but he had a year before he’d have to cross that road.

Harry’s heart leapt for a moment when the sound of knocking glass broke the silence of the room. He looked up to see Dragon sitting regally on his window sill, waiting for him to open the window. After making sure Hedwig was locked in her cage, he opened the window and let Dragon in. Attached to his leg was a letter with the address written in Draco’s tiny scrawl. Harry untied it and set it aside.

“I don’t have any more crackers for you,” he whispered to the bird. It was late at night—or early in the morning; Harry didn’t have a clock in his room—and he didn’t want to wake the Dursleys. Dragon hooted in response, and Harry felt his heart race. The owl wasn’t being really loud, but the house was quiet, so any noise could wake his aunt and uncle.

“Shh,” he whispered at the owl. “I promise I’ll get you more next time.” Dragon responded by nipping at Harry’s hand when he reached for the letter. “Ow, you bloody bird!” Harry whispered loudly. “Fine, if it’s that important, I’ll make you some toast. That okay?” he asked. Dragon didn’t answer him, but Harry took the lack of noise and nipping as a ‘yes.’

Harry opened the door to his bedroom and looked down the hallway to the master bedroom. He pulled out his wand and whispered “ _Lumos_.”

The light was brighter than it had been a few minutes ago, which made Harry a bit proud. He tiptoed down the hallway, and realized when he had reached the stairs that Dragon was flying through the house. He panicked for a moment before he realized he couldn’t do anything but get Dragon his toast.

He walked down the steps slowly, but he couldn’t stop some of them from creaking. In the silence of the house, every sound Harry made seemed loud, and he just knew that the Dursleys would wake up.

When he got to the kitchen, he opened the fridge, bathing the room in light. He placed his wand down on the counter as he pulled out the bread. After closing the fridge, he picked his wand with the tip still lit, and used it to guide him as he found the toaster and began toasting. Dragon landed on the counter and cocked his head at Harry.

“Don’t give me that look,” Harry told it quietly. Dragon was looking impatient, and if he was a human, he’d probably be tapping his foot right now. He looked back at the toaster, hoping the toast would pop out quickly.

The kitchen light turned on, and Harry was suddenly made aware of the thudding down the stairs, coupled with a loud scream. He turned around to see Aunt Petunia standing in a nightgown, backing into the opposite wall from Harry and the owl. He looked at the large predator bird, who flapped its wings and took flight in confusion as Uncle Vernon, wearing a black robe and nothing else.

Harry cursed and quickly muttered “ _Nox_ ,” putting out the light at the tip of his wand. He tried to stuff it down his waistband, but it was too late.

“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT BIRD DOING IN THIS HOUSE, BOY?” Vernon yelled loud enough to wake the neighbors.

“I was just giving him some toast—”

“WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT OWLS?”

“Not to let _mine_ out,” Harry said, standing up straight. “Dragon is my friend’s owl, and I’ve told him to only send him at night so the neighbors won’t see anything.”

“AND WHAT IS THAT DOING OUT OF YOUR BEDROOM?” Uncle Vernon was looking at Harry’s wand. Harry gripped it tightly as the toast popped out. He gave it to Dragon.

“Go and eat this outside,” he told the owl, opening up the kitchen window to let it out. “No response.”

“WHAT ARE YOU THINKING LETTING THAT THING IN THE HOUSE?” Uncle Vernon’s face was turning a dark shade of red. Aunt Petunia, less scared now that the owl had flown out, put a hand on his shoulder.

“Vernon, calm down.”

“I’LL HAVE NO MORE OF THIS, I TELL YOU! I’M DONE! YOU’RE DONE! NO MORE M-MAGIC IN THIS HOUSE.”

“Or else what?” Harry asked, laying the wand on the island counter between them in a threatening manner. “I’ve been practicing in my room alone. No one has seen me. No one has seen Dragon. None of the neighbors know about any of this. That’s what you want, right?” Uncle Vernon didn’t answer. “Stop making a big deal out of it. Dragon just wanted some bread after a long flight. Let me keep a package of crackers in my bedroom and he won’t ever have to enter the house again. Everyone wins.”

“No. More. Owls.” Vernon glared at Harry, but his voice had lowered. His face started returning to a normal color. “No. More. Magic. Unless—” he spoke up before Harry could repeat his threat. “Unless you want to find yourself living on the streets for the next seven years. We swore when we took you in that we wouldn’t let this nonsense happen under our roof. Either you stop using magic, or you can leave.”

Harry was tempted, but he wasn’t sure where he could go. He would have to get to either Malfoy Manor or Hogwarts. Of the two, he knew he’d probably be welcome with fewer questions asked at the Malfoys’, but he didn’t know how to get there from Surrey. He would have to fly to London to use the Floo, but he wouldn’t be able to take his stuff with him if he flew. He couldn’t leave yet.

“And you are through with your threats, you hear me? If you so much as lift your wand to us, we will call the police and have them drag you to the nearest institution, and we’ll be through with you lot.” Vernon sneered at him. “You’ll also return to helping your aunt with the housework. Things are gonna go back to normal around here.”

“What are the police going to do to me?” Harry asked. He was toeing a hard line here, and he knew it, but he couldn’t let the Dursleys win. “A bunch of Muggles with no magic. What happens when I do this?” He lifted his wand and pointed it at the loaf of bread on the counter as he recalled the incantation. He hadn’t yet practiced it, and he hoped he wouldn’t make a fool of himself. He made the proper wand motions. “ _Flipendo_.” The bread flew through the air, hitting the wall next to Aunt Petunia, who screamed again. “What happens when I send my owl out to my wizard friends and they show up to help me? With adults who know more magic than I do?”

Aunt Petunia looked to Uncle Vernon, who refused to break eye contact with Harry. He didn’t answer, so Harry continued.

“I stay. I won’t spend a lot of time outside my room, but while I’m in my room, I’ll practice for school. Because _some people_ kept my _gift_ a secret from me, I have a lot of catching up to do.” He let that sink in for a moment. “You will get me a package of crackers that I’ll keep in my room. No more owls in the house. Dragon will come and go only at night. You won’t ever know he’s here. I won’t use any magic on you lot unless I need to defend myself.

“If you try to pull something, we’re going to have a problem.” He finished with that. He shoved past them, wand in his hand, and made his way up to bed.

<page break>

The Dursleys stopped bothering him. The next day, after he’d left the room for lunch, he’d returned to find a box of crackers on the bed. He didn’t speak to them, and they didn’t speak to him, and he was fine with that. He’d successfully scared them into submission.

A week and a half later, Harry found himself home alone with Dudley, as Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had gone out for the afternoon. They had left him a note with the number for the police if he needed it, as well as instructions to leave ‘the boy’ alone.

With less than a week left until the first, Harry had read most of his books, at least to the point where he could no longer follow them. He was pretty sure he understood the basics, but he’d need a teacher to go over some of the less introductory concepts.

With less time devoted to reading and studying, he’d taken to floating in the air on his broom. When all of the Dursleys were out of the house, he’d fly in the living room. He couldn’t do that, though, now that Dudley was here. Instead, Harry sat on the couch in the living room, watching one of the Muggle programs. He’d never really been allowed to watch television, but no one said anything to him about it now.

Dudley walked to the doorway to the kitchen, where he spoke to Harry for the first time in days.

“Clear out. Piers is coming over.”

“Don’t feel like it,” Harry responded lazily.

“I said clear out,” Dudley spoke up a bit louder. He was feeling a bit braver.

“You’re welcome to join me,” Harry said, not wanting to start a fight. He only had a few days left to be civil with the Dursleys. “You can even change the channel if you like. This isn’t all that interesting.”

Dudley sulked, but he grabbed the remote and sat in the armchair, as far from Harry as he could be. He changed the channel from some reality program to a sitcom. The two sat and watched the television in awkward silence. After a few minutes, the doorbell rang. Dudley silently went to answer it.

“Hey Dud,” Piers Polkiss, one of Dudley’s gang, said as he entered the house. He pounded fists with Dudley, who laughed.

“Hey buddy, how ya been?” he asked, using a marginally deeper voice than his natural one. As the leader of their little gang, he had to pretend to be slightly more manly than the other eleven-year-olds.

“My mom’s been driving me crazy getting me ready for school,” Piers said, closing the door behind him.

“You’re mom’s a bitch,” Dudley declared. “Why do you have to go to school in America anyway?”

“Her brother’s a teacher there. It’s one of the best schools in the country, she says. Don’t worry, I’ll still be around for the holidays.”

Harry tuned out their conversation, caring more about the antics of the sitcom father. Dudley and Piers continued talking for a few moments before walking to the living room.

“What are you doing down here, Potter?” Piers asked with a sneer. “Go upstairs.”

“I’m good,” Harry said in the same bored voice he used when he told Dudley the same thing before. “You two can join me if you want.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Piers asked him.

“Watching the telly.”

He blew some air from his noise angrily as he turned to Dudley. “Well?” he asked him.

“H-Harry,” Dudley said, turning to Harry. “Go upstairs. Now. Or Mum and Dad will—”

“Do what?” Harry asked, turning his full attention to Dudley. “We don’t want a repeat of what happened on my birthday, do we?” Dudley paled under the threat of a pig tail, and Harry looked at him intently.

“What happened on his birthday?” Piers asked, but Dudley shook his head.

“Let’s just leave the bleeder alone, mate,” Dudley said to Piers. Piers began to object, but Dudley talked him down. “He’s getting ballsy on account that he’s going away in a few days. Besides, the telly in my parent’s room is better.”

“He’s going away?”

“He’s going to school at Saint Brutus’ School for the Criminally...Something. I foget, but it’s something like that. A school for sorry sods like him,” Dudley said as they walked up the stairs. “Best to just leave him alone until he goes.”

Harry soon grew bored with the telly, and retired back to his room. He picked up _A History of Magic_ , by Bathalda Bagshot, and opened it to the Table of Contents. History wasn’t anything that really needed an instructor, so he could just read the stories of his culture’s past without needing a teacher. He looked through the list of subjects and years until he got to more recent history. His eyes fell on one of the last entries to the book in the ‘Modern History’ unit.

_The Rise of Lord Voldemort and the Death Eater Rebellion_

He flipped to the corresponding pages, and he wondered if he’d find his name in the book that all the other students would have. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle everyone knowing who he was, everyone expecting a lot of him, everyone knowing his storied past better than he did. It was part of the reason he’d practiced so much this summer—what if he was asked to do something on the first day and couldn’t do it?

The page opened up to reveal a picture of a whispy skull made of green smoke. It hung in the sky ominously. Crawling out of the mouth of the skull was a large snake. The caption beneath it read: _The Dark Mark, the symbol used by the Death Eaters, would be cast over the sites of their attacks whenever a victim was killed. The Mark was also tattooed on the arms of the Death Eaters to create a strong link between them and Lord Voldemort._

He looked at the rest of the chapter.

_In 1970, Lord Voldemort’s rise to power had progressed to the point where he had enough followers to wage war against the Ministry of Magic (LV will be called You-Know-Who or the Dark Lord in the passages which follow). Known as the ‘Great Wizarding Conflict’ or ‘The Death Eater Rebellion,’ You-Know-Who’s war for power lasted from 1970-1981 when he was vanquished unexpectedly._

_The war pitted values against Muggles and Muggleborns against each other. Many pureblood families which resented the rise in prominence and inclusion of Muggleborns in modern politics, as well as the International Statute of Secrecy, supported You-Know-Who and his efforts to restore magical society to the purebloods. His most loyal supporters were known as the Death Eaters, and were branded with the Dark Mark (see above photo)._

The section went on to go into specific legislation both against and for Muggleborn witches and wizards. It mentioned some of the major battles and skirmishes the Death Eaters had with the Ministry, as well as some prominent followers of Lord Voldemort, never mentioning him by name again. He only skimmed the bits, not really taking any of it in, until the end.

_By the summer of 1981, the Dark Lord’s rise to power had nearly been completed. Death Eaters had infiltrated the Ministry of Magic, mostly by use of the Imperius Curse, and the witches and wizards of Britain had little faith in Minister Nilla’s abilities to win the war. Head of Auror Office Bartemus Crouch was even heard saying that Nilla had no power to stop the Dark Lord._

_On Halloween 1981, the Dark Lord attacked the Potter family, a prominent family that supported the Ministry and fought against the Death Eaters, killing both Lily and James Potter. Though the reasons are still unclear, when the Dark Lord cast the Killing Curse on their infant son Harry, the curse rebounded and took the life of the Dark Lord instead._

_The Dark Lord’s death was celebrated in the streets of both the magical and Muggle world. The Death Eaters, unprepared for the loss of their leader, lost all organization as Aurors began to make high-profile arrests. The Death Eaters, without strong organization, fell apart. Many were imprisoned, and many escaped._

Harry stopped reading at that point. He wondered if some of Voldemort’s followers were still out there. He remembered what Hagrid had told him on their trip from the Dursleys to Diagon Alley. _“I reckon he’s still ou’ there, bidin’ his time.”_ A shiver went down his spine, thinking about it.

His hand traced his name, written in permanent ink on the page. He was in a history book! His fame hadn’t quite felt so large until that moment. Any and every student who would go through Hogwarts for the rest of time would read his name in that book. He wasn’t just famous, he was a legend.

_Though the reasons are still unclear_ , Harry reread. He wondered how often magic surprised the magical. Did the prominent wizards and witches of the world think they had everything figured out until then? He tried to look up the Killing Curse in his Defense book, but it wasn’t there. In fact, the only mention of it in any of his books was in the history book. It’s first mention was during a goblin rebellion during the 1100s, when the curse was invented by the then-Minister of Magic.

_The curse, with incantation_ Avada Kedavera _, was able to instantly kill any person or animal it hit. It was the first time a Killing Curse was invented without having any weaknesses or defenses against it, and knowledge of the curse spread quickly. The curse would later join the Imperius and Cruciatus Curses as being classed Unforgiveable._

Harry read the words again. _Without having any weaknesses or defenses against it_. He touched his scar lightly. He wondered what went wrong that he was still alive.

It was then that he heard his uncle call up the stairs to him. He hadn’t even heard the car pull in. He shut the book and put his wand back into his sock. He tucked it securely under his pants before running down the stairs to see what his uncle wanted.

“Your aunt hurt herself today, boy, so you’ll be cooking us dinner,” he told Harry in a tone that brokered no argument. Harry just cocked his head. “ _Please.”_ Harry smiled and nodded his head.

“Of course, Uncle Vernon,” he said, walking past him. “All you had to do was ask.”

“Make enough for four,” Uncle Vernon told him. “Piers is staying for dinner.”

“Then I’ll make enough for five,” Harry declared. “If I cook it, I should be allowed to eat it, don’t you think?” Vernon didn’t argue as Harry walked into the kitchen to prepare the roast.

He knew immediately that that sized roast would barely fill four people, let alone five. He frowned at it, thinking he might decide to make two sides instead of one just to help fill people, before realizing that it wouldn’t fly with his uncle and cousin. An idea came over him, causing him to run up the stairs and grab his _Standard Book of Spells, Year 1._

He flipped through the pages quickly before he found the exact charm that would help him: the Gemini Charm. He read the instructions twice before looking around quickly. When he was sure that the Dursleys—and more importantly, Piers—were out of sight, he pulled his wand out of his sock and pointed it at the roast.

“Geminio,” he spoke carefully. Next to the original pot roast, an exact copy was created, and Harry mentally pat himself on the back. He made sure to slice it to make sure it was pot roast all the way through before beginning to prepare dinner.

He quickly found out that the duplication charm didn’t create an exact copy. It was only by luck that Harry noticed the duplicate roast cooking much faster than the original, already finished before the original had barely begun to cook. He quickly pulled it out of the oven and began with the spices and sauces to give it flavor. To make sure it wouldn’t be a problem, he tasted a bit of it, and found nothing wrong.

While he was waiting for the original roast to finish, he read up on the Gemini Charm.

_The Gemini Charm (also known as the Gemini Curse when applied with the incantation_ Geminio Totalus _) has been the subject of much debate. It  is wondered whether a copy created with the Geminio Charm held the same value as the original, as the two items are impossible to tell apart at first, being identical to one another._

_However, over time, the copy tended to rot or tarnish more quickly than the original, making it possible to identify eventually. Because of this, replicas created this charm are considered to have no value or worth._

He bit his lower lip as he considered the duplicate. It tasted fine, although it probably wouldn’t last well as leftovers. He decided he would put that on the table first so that it was the first one eaten. It would probably last long enough to be eaten and digested, Harry hoped.

The original roast finished quickly enough. Harry used the same spices and sauces before working on the sides: mashed potatoes and green beans. The only ones eating those would be him and his aunt, but it didn’t stop him from making a fair amount. After setting the table and placing the duplicate roast on the table with the sides, he called his family in to eat.

No one complimented him, though he knew the roast tasted great. No one thanked him, even though he’d done it all by himself. The only thing anyone said to him was Aunt Petunia, who asked him where he’d gotten the second roast from.

“Magic,” he said at first with a smile. Uncle Vernon looked like he would faint, and both Aunt Petunia and Dudley went white. Piers looked at him with a weird look, but Harry played it off as a joke. “I’m kidding,” he lied. “There was a second roast in the back of the freezer you must have forgotten about.”

“M-Must have,” Aunt Petunia had agreed, looking down at her food. Uncle Vernon and Dudley gave the rest of their roast the same inquisitive glance before Harry took another bite. Seemingly mollified by his willing to eat his own cooking, his family resumed eating.

“So Piers,” Uncle Vernon said, going back to ignoring Harry. “I hear you’re going off to boarding school. America, eh?”

“Yeah,” Piers answered. “My uncle is a teacher at one of the best boarding schools in the country, so I’m getting a free ride.”

“Nothing’s better than free,” Uncle Vernon affirmed with a hearty laugh.

“How do you have family in America?” Aunt Petunia asked him.

“My dad’s family’s from America,” Piers said quickly. “They moved to England when he was young. After they died, my uncle moved back to America and started teaching.”

“I didn’t know your family is American,” Dudley commented.

“Where’d they come from originally?” Vernon asked.

“They came from Great Britain when they were still colonies,” Piers answered.

The Dursleys kept asking Piers questions, but Harry was tired of listening. He didn’t really care about Piers’ life story. Instead, he got up and brought his plate to the sink. He also took some of the empty dishes—the green beans, the potatoes, and the plate that the duplicate roast had been on.

By the time he was done with those dishes, everyone had finished eating and were just talking about how Dudley and Piers were getting so grown up. Harry silently collected the plates and silverware, washed it all, and went back to his room with his _Standard Book of Spells_ and his wand tucked in his sock.

He spent the next hour rereading the passage in _A History of Magic_ about Voldemort’s downfall. He wondered what the Dursleys would say if he told them he was in a history book. They probably wouldn’t even be impressed. Uncle Vernon would just grunt at him and Aunt Petunia would clear her throat and pretend she didn’t hear anything. Dudley might be impressed, but he still wouldn’t say anything. He never had anything nice to say.

He closed the book and instead opened _Hogwarts, A History_ , a book that Hermione had encouraged him to get at Flourish and Blotts. He didn’t need any coaxing to get the book. He had hoped to maybe read enough of it that he’d know more about Hogwarts than even Draco! But the opening of the book was dull, so Harry hadn’t quite gotten around to it yet.

Skipping the introduction, Harry started to read about the founders of Hogwarts: Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin. He read about the founding of the school and the different aspects of the building. He read about the rift between Slytherin and the other founders, and more stories about the Headmasters who have looked after the school since it was founded.

He was interrupted from his reading when someone knocked on his door, a luxury he wasn’t used to having. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the door. “ _Alohamora_ ,” said. The door’s lock clicked and the door sprang open.

Dudley was standing in the hallway.

“D-Dad’ll be mad if he knows you’re doing m-m-”

“Magic,” Harry supplied. “You can say it and it won’t hurt you, you know. And are you going to _tell_ Uncle Vernon I was using magic.”

Dudley quickly shook his head. “I won’t. I swear. I promise. Please don’t turn me into a pig.” Dudley spoke so fast that Harry didn’t even need to ask if he was scared.

“What do you want?” Harry asked his cousin.

“I-I just wanted to a-ap...I wanted to say I’m s-sorry,” the word caught in his throat. “I’m sorry about how Piers was before. He doesn’t know about the m-magic, so please don’t turn him into a pig. And please don’t do me neither.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but was enjoying the way he made Dudley scared now. My, how the tables had turned since his birthday.

“I still haven’t decided,” Harry admitted dangerously. “Maybe I should turn you into a different animal a day, one for each day you lot picked on me. Remember that time you shoved Johnny Acklebenny into his locker because he ate lunch with me? Maybe I should turn you into a locker and stuff Piers inside you. Maybe I’ll change you back while he’s inside you and see what happens.”

Dudley made a strangled sound, and Harry was enjoying it too much. His cousin seemed frozen in place.

“I could do so much more, though,” Harry said, pretending to be pondering to himself. “A pig is fitting for you, it is. But maybe I should turn you into an owl and send you to all my friends as my messenger for the rest of your life. Or maybe I should turn you into a rat and let you scabber about forever.”

“Please don’t,” Dudley said, falling to the ground, close to tears. “I’m sorry for everything me and my friends did to you Potter—Harry. And I’m sorry for how my parents and I used to treat you.”

“Used to?” Harry asked. “Nothing’s changed, Dudley, except now you lot try to ignore me. I cooked you all dinner today without a complaint. Did I get a single thanks? No.”

“Th-thanks,” Dudley said. “It was really good.”

“If I turn you into a pig, would it make you a cannibal for eating pork roast?” Harry pondered aloud. He knew he should stop torturing the poor boy, but he couldn’t. It was almost cathartic to make Dudley freak out. “I won’t turn you into a pig,” Harry promised his cousin. “I don’t want to hurt any of you. I just want you all to leave me alone. Not be such utter pricks. I only have a few more days in this house. I probably won’t be back until next summer, and you’ll only have to deal with me during summers. Hell, I might even spend some summers at my friends’ if I can. Just don’t treat me like shit while I’m here, and once I’m eighteen you lot won’t ever have to see me again.”

“I promise,” Dudley said with a serious expression as he stood up. “I’ll even talk to Mum and Dad after you leave.” Harry looked at Dudley with a curious expression. Was he just saying that, or would he really talk to them? Harry knew that his aunt and uncle would jump through flaming hoops to keep Dudley happy.

“Thanks,” he muttered, hoping he’d scared Dudley enough to really make things change for him in the future. Although if he could, he’d try to arrange it so he’d never have to go back to the Dursleys’ again. He’d have to talk with Mr. Malfoy and maybe Professor Dumbledore to see if he could spend the holidays at Malfoy Manor from now on. He could only imagine the fun he’d have.

He went to sleep dreaming about Hogwarts and the infinite possibilities of his future. He dreamed of never returning to Number Four Privet Drive. He dreamed of a lot of things he didn’t really remember when he woke up. The only thing he remembered was the flash of green light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and comments! Please let me know what you think of the story so far. Next chapter, we finally get to see Hogwarts (and there's gonna be a bit of a surprise).


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